


Mission: Courtship

by yxurstruly



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Flirting, F/M, Mayhaps, OR IS IT, Pining, Plot Twist, School Dance AU, Unrequited Crush, because I said so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yxurstruly/pseuds/yxurstruly
Summary: There was to be a ball at Hieronymous Wiggenstaff’s School for Heroism and Villainy. Sir Fitzroy was overjoyed. A ball meant chivalry and elegance. It meant capes and robes and brooches. It meant dancing and drinking and merriment. And—if everything went according to plan—it meant courtship.So far, it was not going according to plan.
Relationships: Leon/Buckminster (background), Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt/Rainer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	Mission: Courtship

There was to be a ball at Hieronymous Wiggenstaff’s School for Heroism and Villainy. Sir Fitzroy was overjoyed. A ball meant chivalry and elegance. It meant capes and robes and brooches. It meant dancing and drinking and merriment. And—if everything went according to plan—it meant courtship.

So far, it was not going according to plan.

The trouble began when Argo found out about the plan, which he was not supposed to do at all. Fitzroy blamed the hard-to-perceive Cat who sometimes made a half-appearance in the boys’ room for knocking his parchment to the floor in the wee hours of the morning. Argo, perpetually on his seaman’s schedule, had risen first a few hours later and read the whole thing—every word Fitzroy had painstakingly thought through the previous night before dozing off, plan laying precariously beside him.

Fitzroy had thought that Argo was acting weird as they dressed for the day, but he did his best to ignore it until they were heading for breakfast, letting the Firbolg lumber ahead to strike up as much of a conversation as he could with Leon.

“So, you’ve taken a fancy to Rainier, eh?” said Argo abruptly, elbowing Fitzroy in the side.

Fitzroy stumbled (not because of the elbowing—he was far too strong to get shoved around, not by Argo of all people). “What do you—what—why would you think that?” he stammered out. “I mean, what gave you the impression?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Argo grinned mischievously. “Perhaps this might’ve tipped me off?” He extracted from his coat pocket a piece of parchment covered in a startlingly familiar scrawl.

“Where did you get that,” Fitzroy demanded, reaching to snatch the paper from Argo, who held it cunningly out of reach.

“Found it on the floor,” Argo drawled. He glanced over at Fitzroy’s flowery script. “‘Mission: Courtship,’ huh.”

“Shut—up—” Fitzroy huffed. The little dance Argo was making him do to try to snatch his parchment back was getting a little ridiculous. Then he realized Argo was laughing at him. Laughing! At him! The audacity of it all sent Fitzroy into grumbly submission. If Argo had read it, which he had, there was no way of deleting it from his mind. Besides, it was too early to go into a rage. He hadn’t had his omelette yet. Argo was saying something. What was he saying? Fitzroy tuned back in.

“—is a real dashing lass, but you’ll have no trouble getting her to go with you, not with those starry eyes she’s always givin’ you. I mean, you are quite a catch, and she certainly isn’t blind to that—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fitzroy cut in. “Uh, what’s that about the starry eyes or what have you?”

Argo looked genuinely surprised. “Oh, you haven’t noticed? I thought you would’ve by now, with all that time you spend looking at her. Everyone else certainly has,” he added roguishly.

Fitzroy stopped, holding up the omelette line that Argo had followed him into. “Everyone?”

Argo chuckled. “Firbolg, buddy,” he called as the third member of their trio passed by behind them with a full tray, already on his way to save the whole party a seat. “What do we think of our friend’s special lady?”

“Our friend’s special—? Oh!” His face brightened with understanding. “Oh yes. Beautiful and kind. Good at…dancing…squirrels.”

Fitzroy felt his face flush a bright red as he muttered a distracted “thank you” to the omelette bar guy. To Argo, then: “Can we maybe not involve anyone else in this conversation?”

He turned swiftly to the Firbolg, who had claimed a table not far away. “Do you want to please forget this information about me please and thank you very much?” he implored with possibly a little more snark than was necessary.

“Okay,” the Firbolg shrugged amiably, licking berry juice off his fingers.

Argo drew his chair close to Fitzroy’s (a little too close, thank you) as Leon, Buckminster, and Rainier joined the trio with their breakfast trays piled high and their chatter bright and amicable.

Argo held Fitzroy’s parchment stealthily under the table so only the two of them could see it.

“It’s not a bad plan, really,” Argo mused.

“Of course not. It’s the most chivalrous course of action I could think of,” Fitzroy snapped back quietly. He glanced over his plan again, impressed that it stood up in the reality of daylight.

Mission: Courtship; or, How to ‘Suade Rainier to Attend with Me the Upcoming Ball

Step One. Woo her slowly and courteously over the course of the next week. Small gifts, thoughtful compliments, consensual touches, &c. Note: flowers? Jewelry?? Brooches???

Step Two. Create an opportune moment. Send Snippers with an invite—a stroll about the campus should do just the trick. Near the forest but not too near the forest. Note: ensure that she comes SOLO!!

Step Three. Pop the question. That is to say, ask her if she’d like to attend with me. Say,

Rainier, would you like to attend

Rainier, how would you feel about attending

Rainier, be the darling you are and accompany me

Rainier, would you like to go to the ball with me?

Note: keep it simple!!! Don’t say more than you have to.

Step Four. Practice dancing. Ask Argo Buckminst Le the F Scour the library for resources. Note: don’t step on her feet!!

Fitzroy lavished in a moment of brief relief and cosmic gratitude that the second and much more incriminating page of his plan was still tucked somewhere among his rumpled sheets. It was the more intimate list of procedures of what to do with Rainier at the ball (and after, if she so permitted) that he had been outlining when he had slipped into his trance.

“Really, I do think this could work,” Argo was saying. “Try to get her alone sometime soon. You don’t want her losing interest.”

Fitzroy met Argo’s eyes with hesitant curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“If women think you’re not interested, they’re not going to make a move on you first.”

“Too scared?”

“Too sensible,” Argo corrected.

“Well that’s what my wooing was for,” explained Fitzroy, indicating Step One. “To pique her interest.”

“Oh, her interest is piqued, all right,” Argo chuckled. Fitzroy looked up. Rainier was eyeballing the pair amusedly.

“What are you boys up to?”

“Nothing!” Fitzroy blurted as Argo laughed again. The energy at the table shifted into Spectator Mode. Rainier giggled, apparently oblivious.

“You’re not going to make me use my squirrels on you, are you?” A drawer on her chair slid teasingly open. “They’re very intimidating when they need to be.”

“You, ah, you wouldn’t actually sic those things on me, now, would you?” Fitzroy was a mess. He needed to regain his schwerve, and fast.

“Probably not,” Rainier said, and winked. Fitzroy’s stomach flipped, and for once it was not because of the shameful lack of crêpes at this forsaken institute.

“Well, even if you did,” Fitzroy floundered, “I certainly wouldn’t think of you as any less lovely.”

Nailed it, Fitzroy congratulated himself as Rainier thanked him good-naturedly and the conversation continued its natural course, the rest of the group falling back into their amicable rhythm.

***

The days ebbed on and Fitzroy found that it was much less emotionally taxing to just avoid Rainier until he absolutely could not. There had been one encounter in particular during a shared class of theirs that had so fasted him to his newfound hesitancy. A battle scrimmage had been in full swing. Rainier had chosen Fitzroy and the Firbolg as her teammates (“‘Henchpeople’ is a little demeaning, don’t you think?”); the three of them were squaring off against a Hero team led by a fighter and assisted by a cleric and a wizard.

It was a good match, and Fitzroy hadn’t burned any teachers or turned any women into catfish, so he was feeling pretty good. The sun kissed the tops of the trees to the west of the outdoor battleground and a delectable smell in the air promised a highly satisfactory dinner after class. Rainier looked radiant in the pre-evening light. She was in her element, hair swishing with the gust of spells and the swinging of swords. The other team’s cleric uttered something that Fitzroy, busy defending and admiring Rainier, could not make out. A content tingle came over him.

“What’s next, Firbolg?” the cleric called tauntingly.

“I will…go right and block,” the Firbolg responded, his actions mirroring his words exactly. He took the wizard’s spell to his chest and stumbled to his knees. Rainier yelped.

Fitzroy knew he should have found the whole thing odd, dissonant, but Rainier’s laughter and playful revenge spell and glowing skin were really consuming a lot of his attention, plus he was a little peckish and a little tired, and damn her eyes were on him, she was really something else—

“Fitz! What’s got you so distracted?”

Nothing, he intended to say, but the absolute worst thing he could have possibly said decided to tumble out of his mouth instead:

“Your smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His eyes widened with horror and he was only barely able to register the string of microexpressions that paraded across Rainier’s face as he was hit with the realization of what had happened. The cleric had got him in a zone of truth. Rainier had asked him a basically meaningless question and he had given a very incriminating answer. He was ruined.

Rainier gave him an almost not awkward thank-you, and Fitzroy proceeded to throw every inch of concentration into the scrimmage, ears and neck aflame. He didn’t speak for the rest of the evening and had deftly avoided conversing with Rainier in the days since.

Argo had thrown Fitzroy a couple of Meaningful Glances as the topic of the ball arose in conversation over meals, but Fitzroy scowled at him and was glad he didn’t try to pursue it any further.

During the group’s midday meal the day before the ball, Buckminster came forth with an announcement.

“I’m taking Leon to the ball tomorrow night,” he said, masking any nervousness behind a slightly louder-than-usual tone.

Fitzroy nodded his congratulations as the rest of the table vocalized their approval of the match and Leon flushed smilingly. He felt apprehension bubble in his chest. The ball was indeed tomorrow night, wasn’t it. And he had avoided talking to Rainier about it the entire week, hadn’t he.

He sighed resignedly. It was today or never.

The Heroes and Villains departed for the main campus. Fitzroy, Leon, Argo, and the Firbolg set off together for the Annex.

“Are any of you taking anyone to the ball?” asked Leon. Fitzroy balked.

“Actually,” Argo began a little bashfully, drawing Fitzroy’s attention, “I did ask a classmate of mine from Blame-Taking. Mimi. They recognized the sea shanty I was humming and I took my chance.”

“Did they say yes?” asked the Firbolg.

“They did,” grinned Argo.

After the obligatory round of back-clapping congratulations, the Firbolg spoke up again.

“I, too, have a…date,” he finished with a smile, an earthy flush dusting his face with pride.

“A special someone?” Argo asked, surprised.

“No. Just a friend. But she and I will…how is it…dance all night away.”

“So?” Fitzroy prodded. “Who is she?”

The Firbolg turned his smile towards Fitzroy. “It is a surprise.” And that was that.

***

Fitzroy was checked out during dinner that night. He was aware of the noise at the table, the cheerful babble of conversation, but the sand in his internal hourglass was falling with a feverish intensity that made it difficult to focus on anything else.

With the sudden recklessness of an unwanted burst of magic, Fitzroy felt himself stand. “Rainier, would you care to take a stroll with me after dinner?” he blurted.

The table was silent. All eyes were on Fitzroy—including some that had wandered from other tables nearby. Fitzroy swallowed and sank back into his seat, his eyes glued stubbornly to the table in front of Rainier, flowing with shame.

“Fitz, are you doing alright?”

When Fitzroy looked up, Rainier’s eyes were as soft as her voice. He found himself without an answer.

“Yes,” Rainier said gently. “I’ll go on a walk with you.” As long as you tell me what’s going on, her eyes added. Fitzroy nodded sullenly. Clyde Knight would be ashamed of him.

***

The evening was cool and clear. Fitzroy pulled his cape a little tighter around his shoulders, partially to keep out the soft breeze that shuttled periodically over the campus grounds, partially just to give himself something to do while he trailed along beside Rainier, the awkward silence between them abundant.

“So,” Rainier spoke up.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Fitzroy prefaced.

“For what?” She looked genuinely curious.

“For—just—this whole week I know I’ve been awfully distant and awfully unchivalrous and just awfully not myself around you.” Horrified, he found he couldn’t stop, though this time it was his own nerves and not any pesky zone of truth to blame. “And it isn’t anything that you did, of course, it’s actually something I did, or rather didn’t do, or actually haven’t done and I Don’t want you to think that I’m upset with you, because I’m not, God, I could never be—”

“Fitzroy.”

He bit back a tired “Sir.”

“It’s okay. We all have our off days. Or weeks, I guess, sometimes. I think talking about it is good for you—I just don’t want you to go too crazy.”

Fitzroy balked at what he was sure was a reference to his barbaric rages, but Rainier’s face was serene, her eyes playful.

The two meandered in companionable silence as the vast blueness above them faded to orange, then deepened to a calm indigo, the only sounds around them Fitzroy’s footfalls and the quiet enchanted whir of Rainier’s chair. Fitzroy found that it was indeed good for him to just walk beside her, out in the open with no one watching. No expectations, no need to put on a show. Conversation bubbled between the two, ebbing and flowing naturally, the tide of their words pulling in to the banks of classes and projects, of adventures, of friends and family, of a picturesque future to come after graduation. It wasn’t until the sky had nearly blackened and the pair had reached the front door of the Heroes and Villains dormitory that Fitzroy’s nerves fizzed up again.

He took a breath.

“Rainier?” He attempted his best eye contact and tried hard to remember his plan. “Would you like to go to the ball with me?”

“Oh, Fitzroy,” she breathed, drawing a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I—someone already asked me. I said yes.”

“Oh,” Fitzroy blinked, then blinked again. “Do I, uh, do I know the person?”

“Ah—” Rainier hesitated. “Fitz—it was Master Firbolg.”

“Ah,” said Fitzroy, still blinking. “Ah.” For a moment it seemed like he couldn’t say much else.

Rainier watched him nervously, half-expecting a rage. “I’m sor—” she cut herself off; there was really nothing to apologize for. “I didn’t know you were going to ask.”

Fitzroy stared intently at the ground, trying to make sense of the whole disaster, his face bright red but his eyes certainly not, watering, thank you very much, with emotional whiplash or with anything emotional or with anything really at all for that matter.

“Are you going to be alright?” Rainier asked softly.

“Yes!” Fitzroy found his voice. “Yes, of course! You will have fun, I’m sure. It is a lovely match, and I approve of it.”

“Oh! Thank you, Sir Fitzroy,” she laughed lightly, “though we aren’t going as a match match.” Something in the twinkle of her eyes sent an odd little leap of hope through Fitzroy’s chest. “I mean,” Rainier continued, “we’re going as friends. I’m sure if I talk it through with him he wouldn’t mind me saving a dance for you, if you’d like?”

Fitzroy floated for a moment on the possibility before dropping back into reality. “No, don’t trouble yourself,” he told her, regretting it as he said it.

The two held eye contact for a moment longer, neither sure of how best to conclude.

“I’ll see you then, I suppose,” Fitzroy blurted eventually, pressing his heels into the ground to keep himself from rocking back and forth.

Rainier grinned. “Not if I see you first.”

Fitzroy was a blur walking back to the Sidekick and Hench dorm. He had some very pointed questions for the Firbolg.

But first he just needed to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Very special thanks to my betas Kiera and Lynn. It's really something else to be beta'd by two people who aren't in the fandom--really helps you get a grip on your writing. :P
> 
> I am moon-jellie on Tumblr if you want to swing by and say hi--I'd appreciate it. :)
> 
> Stay safe and occupied!


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